Page 12 of Omega on the Rocks (Pubbin’ Mates #1)

The next strange thing started with the blankets.

Not just any blankets—his. The ones Keiran used after long patrols. The ones that still smelled like him. The ones I’d clutched in the early weeks when the morning sickness was cruel and his work kept him away too long.

I dragged them into the corner of our bedroom without even thinking, piling them like a fortress.

And then I needed more—more softness, more warmth, more him .

I stripped the sheets off the bed. Stole every pillow in the cabin.

Emptied the linen closet and raided the laundry basket for the shirt he’d worn just that morning.

My body moved without instruction. Driven. Determined. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a need —a biological imperative humming in my blood that whispered:

Protect. Prepare. Comfort. Safe. Safe. Safe.

I built it in the corner near the fire, where the light was soft and the air was warm.

Layer upon layer of softness and scent. Furs.

Flannel. One of Keiran’s sweaters still dusted with pine needles from last week’s hunt.

I arranged it, rearranged it, growled when something felt off and rebuilt it until it felt right.

And gods help anyone who touched it.

I hissed when the front door creaked open.

“Preacher?” Keiran’s voice drifted in, casual, warm.

I didn’t answer.

He stepped into the room, pausing mid-stride when he saw me crouched in the middle of my pile like some sort of deranged dragon guarding treasure.

His brows lifted slowly. “You… uh. Got a project going?”

“Don’t touch it,” I said immediately. My voice was low. Defensive. Primal.

He lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I narrowed my eyes, scenting the air. His cologne was different today—too sharp. I shifted a blanket over the edge of the nest like a shield.

He moved cautiously closer. “You’re nesting.”

“No shit,” I muttered, patting down a fold of worn cotton like it was sacred.

Keiran sat on the floor beside the edge of the nest, watching me with something between reverence and amusement. “How long have you been at this?”

“Since before sunrise.”

He glanced at the window. “It’s almost dusk.”

I blinked, glancing toward the clock. He wasn’t lying. I’d been in here building this cocoon for hours , driven by instinct and something deeper I didn’t want to name.

“You okay?” he asked gently. “Not hurting?”

I paused, my hand resting on my round belly, feeling the flutter of movement just beneath the surface.

“No pain,” I said quietly. “Just… this need. I can’t explain it. It’s like my body knows something’s coming. Like it’s telling me to build the safest place in the world for them. And I don’t want to leave it. I don’t even want you in it unless I say so.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You don’t have to explain. This is yours . Whatever you need, I’ll get it. If I need to sleep on the damn roof, just say the word.”

That tugged something loose in my chest. I turned toward him, lips twitching.

“You’re not sleeping on the roof.”

“Good. I hate heights.”

I reached out and took his hand, pulling him just to the edge of the nest. “You can come in. Just you. No sharp smells. No questions.”

He smiled like I’d given him the moon. “Deal.”

As he crawled in beside me, careful not to disturb the folds I’d obsessively arranged, I felt his warmth settle behind me, his arm coming around my waist, hand instinctively splayed over the rise of our pup.

I tucked my head beneath his chin.

“You smell like home,” I murmured.

“You are my home,” he replied softly.

And there, in the fortress of fabric and love and instinct, I let myself breathe.

Let myself rest.

Let myself belong .

Epilogue A Few Months Later

I’d never held anything so gently in my life.

One tiny hand gripped the edge of my shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to the world. His eyes were shut, lashes long and fluttering, little nose scrunched in a dream. His warmth soaked into my chest, anchoring me, calming me in a way no words ever could.

The fire crackled low behind us, casting soft light across the cabin walls. Our nest, now expanded to a ridiculous size thanks to Keiran’s over-indulgent alpha instincts, lay like a cottony cloud behind me. But I didn’t want to lay him down. Not yet. Not ever, maybe.

“He’s perfect,” Keiran whispered from the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glassy as he watched us.

I smirked down at the baby in my arms. “Of course he is. He’s half me.”

Keiran chuckled and crossed the room to kneel beside me. He pressed a kiss to my temple, one hand gently stroking the downy-soft dark hair of our pup.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured. “That I walked into that bar looking for whiskey—and walked out with a smart-mouthed omega I couldn’t live without.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, careful not to jostle the baby. “Better to have an omega on the rocks than a whiskey on the rocks.”

He groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” I grinned. “You’re stuck with me, Alpha.”

“Damn right I am.”

His hand moved to cradle our baby’s head. Our son stirred slightly, then settled, soothed by the scent and presence of both his parents. It was instinct. Bond. Fate. Whatever it was, it felt whole.

“I didn’t know this kind of peace existed,” I whispered, voice cracking just a little.

Keiran didn’t answer with words. He just leaned in and kissed me—slow and reverent—before resting his forehead against mine.

Outside, the snow had started to fall again.

But inside, I was warm. I was safe.

I was home. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t alone.